Silent All These Years
by Lehua
Summary: A BV fanfic. Inspired by the line Silent All These Years from The Tori Amos song, not the song itself.
1. Default Chapter

**Silent All These Years**

**Chapter One**

**  
**Bulma stormed out of the house. All these years, he hasn't said a nice word to her all these years. They've had two children—wonderful children—and he still has not said a nice thing to her. She couldn't take it anymore! Why did he always have to be so mean to her? She understood that his life had been harsh before her, but he should have learned by now how to be somewhat nice. She couldn't figure out who was worse anymore: Yamcha and his cheating ways or Vegeta and his I'm-a-Saiyan-Prince-so-I-can-act-anyway-I-want' attitude. Bulma uncapsuled her car and drove off.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trunks watch his mother drive off into the night. He turned to his father, "She left."

Vegeta looked at his son and then returned to reading the paper. "She always leaves, but she always come's back," he said factually.

Trunks's eyes flared at his father.

Vegeta felt Trunks' ki rise a little and he eyed his son warily. There was nothing Trunks could do to him, and he knew it. Besides, Trunk's wouldn't hurt him anyway. He looked back at the paper and read about how some stupid human was caught robbing a bank.

"Father, one day Mom's not going to come back," Trunks said.

Vegeta snorted and continued reading.

"You shouldn't take her for granted."

Vegeta still ignored his son.

Trunks threw up his hands and left the room. He sincerely hoped his mother would come back.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, Daddy, where's Mom?" Bra said as she came in through the front door. She had just gotten home from her date with Goten.

"She left," Vegeta said still reading.

Bra sighed. "Again?" She threw her things on the table and sat next to her father. 

Vegeta put the paper down and looked at her. She looked so much like the woman. He felt a pang of guilt rise in his chest. "Is there something you want?" he asked her gently. He always had a soft spot for her.

"Why can't you be the way you are with me with Mom?" she asked him.

Vegeta looked at her startled. Was he really that bad?

"Yes, you really are that bad, Dad," she said reading the look on his face.

Vegeta sighed. "It wasn't always like this between your mother and me."

"Which is why she probably sticks around. She knows how you feel, Dad, but she wants you to show it to her. I mean, she's only human. One day she might not come back," Bra echoed after Trunks. She got up. "Goodnight, Daddy," she said and kissed Vegeta on the cheek.

Vegeta grunted.

Bra left.

"It wasn't always this way," Vegeta thought to himself. "There were better times . . . ."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Before . . . .

Vegeta shut down the gravity machine and sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit. Damn, he just couldn't reach it; he was almost there, but it kept eluding him. He needed to beat Kakkarot, prove to him and everyone else that he was the strongest in the universe. But his body wouldn't let him; just when he could feel the power coming, his body shut down on him, stubbornly refusing to do anything further. It was so damned frustrating.

He reached the door and straightened his shoulders, trying to regain his royal air. He could show no weaknesses; he was the Saiyan Prince. Feeling composed enough to go beyond the confines of the gravity machine, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the cool night air. The woman's house was dark, except for her window and the kitchen light. She always left the kitchen light on for him. She'd yell at him in the morning if she found it still on, knowing that he had trained the whole night through. She was always harping on him about his training too much and saying that his body needed to rest. What did she know? She knew nothing about the Saiyan physique, so he just ignored her.

He started to walk towards the house when he noticed a movement through Bulma's window. He stopped and looked up through her window. He saw it again. Damn, her new boyfriend, John, was there. He growled and began to walk to the kitchen. Didn't look like he'd get much sleep tonight if he stayed at the house. He hated when he had to go to that damned island in the middle of no where to sleep. But it was even worse to stay at the house when John was there because he and Bulma would be at it for a while, or yelling and screaming. Actually, he liked to see them yell at each other—the woman had quite a mouth—but tonight he just wanted to sleep. He was still frustrated about not making it to Super Saiyan status, and his body was aching all over. He needed to get some rest tonight.

He entered the kitchen and went straight to the fridge to find something edible. The woman wouldn't be cooking for him tonight now that her boyfriend was here, which was a blessing, considering her cooking was absolutely horrible. He was busily putting together several sandwiches when he heard a crash from upstairs followed by the woman screaming. It was eerily quiet for a moment, and then he heard her footsteps as she ran down the stairs, followed by a heavier step. He glanced at the clock and noted that it was still early; may be he would get to sleep here tonight.

"Leave me alone, John! Just go away!" he heard the woman scream.

His eyebrows scrunched together, his face worried. Her tone of voice wasn't right. She sounded . . . scared. He put down the knife and listened closely to the argument.

"Who was that guy on the answering machine, Bulma? Are you having an affair, Bulma?" John said, his voice angry.

The woman? Cheat? Never. That woman was very loyal. She was extremely loyal to her last boyfriend, that weakling Yamcha, even though he wasn't as loyal.

"John, I'd never cheat on you. You know that," she said, her voice pleading.

"How do I know? You flirt with every guy you come across. How do I know you're not cheating on me with . . . Vegeta?"

He clenched and un-clenched his hands, trying to control his temper. That baka wasn't worth the energy he'd have to use to burn him to a crisp.

"Vegeta? I would never cheat on you John, especially with Vegeta."

"Well, what about that guy on the answering machine then: are you cheating on me with him?" John said, his voice dangerously low.

"No, I told you already; he and I have to go to a meeting tomorrow morning, and he was making sure that I remembered."

"I don't believe you," John said. Vegeta heard his footsteps draw close to the woman.

"John, please," she pleaded. "Don't make me call Vegeta," she said, almost as if it were a last minute thought.

"Vegeta? He doesn't give a damn about you," John sneered.

"Yeah, but he wouldn't stand for this either, John," she said.

"Try to call for him all you like: that baka can't hear you over his training."

He heard a thud and the woman whimpered. What the hell? Was that idiot hitting her? He flew out of the kitchen into the living room and saw John steadily hitting the woman. He slammed his body into John, flying John across the room into the opposite wall. Before John could even hit the floor, Vegeta grabbed him and slammed his fist into John's face. John looked at him, fear evident in his eyes, blood streaming down his face.

"If I ever catch you here again, or around that woman, I will personally see to it that you don't breathe another breath." Vegeta picked up John and unceremoniously kicked his butt out of the house.

Coming back into the house, he found the woman still cowering in the living room. He stood looking down on her. She had a gash over her right eye and she was covered in bruises. He gently touched her, but she recoiled from his touch.

"Bulma, it's me," he said softly.

She looked up at him, her eyes wet from crying. She swallowed hard, the tears silently trailing down her face. He gently picked her up and held her in his arms. He needed to get her to a hospital. She clung to him as he flew her to the nearest Emergency Room.

"I need a doctor!" he roared as soon as he stepped through the sliding glass doors.

"Sir, all the doctors are busy. You're going to have to wait," a nurse said to him.

"I will not wait! I need a doctor NOW!" he bellowed, powering up slightly.

A doctor appeared from behind a curtain. "Sir, I'll see you."

Vegeta stepped into the curtained off room with the woman still in his arms. She had passed out on the flight to the ER. "I don't need help: she does."

He placed her down on the bed and watched the doctor assess her. "She has a serious gash over her eye that will need to be stitched. Also, she has several bruises. Who are you to this woman?" the doctor asked him, suspicion in his voice.

"I live in her house," he said, crossing his arms. "I didn't do this; her boyfriend did." He knew what the doctor was thinking.

The doctor said nothing. He returned to his examination of the woman. He found several more bruises, older ones, underneath her shirt and pants. She also had many cuts too, some recently closed and others fading against her pale skin. Once he began to take off Bulma's undergarments, Vegeta left. He didn't want to know what lay beneath them; he might not be able to control the urge to kill that bastard. He silently waited outside the curtained room.

The doctor came out several minutes later. "She has endured a great deal of beatings. As you saw, she had several bruises, some fresh and some staring to fade. She also has scarring from cuts she received earlier. The gash on her head is being stitched right now. She seems to have endured a few unwanted sexual acts."

"You mean she was raped?" Vegeta said, not wanting to believe what he was hearing.

The doctor nodded. "Physically, she'll be fine. Emotionally, I'm not sure." The doctor looked at Vegeta with steady eyes. "How long has this been going on?"

Vegeta looked at him, a deep scowl on his face. "I don't know."

The doctor looked at him, disbelief written in his eyes.

"I'm out all day. I don't get home until very late. Tonight I got in early," he said, trying to convince himself more than the doctor. How long had it been going on? And right in front of his face too.

The doctor nodded. "Well," he said with a heavy breath, "after her eye is stitched and she wakes, she can go home. That is, after I see her."

Vegeta nodded.

The doctor left.

He stood silently outside of the curtained room, thinking. How the hell did this happen? He couldn't imagine why the woman would let a man beat her, or rape her. He couldn't imagine her being scared of anyone. Hell, she wasn't even scared of him! How could she be so scared of a weakling human?

How could he have not known what was going on? She'd been quieter lately, but he thought she'd just gotten tired of fighting with him. He'd noticed that she was dragging her feet a bit, and that she'd seem a little jumpy lately also. How could he have not known something was wrong? And it was going on in his house. He could feel his temper rising. That damned man deserved to die for all the pain he caused.

He was contemplating on whether or not he should kill the man when he heard movement from inside the curtained room. He pulled back the curtain a bit and saw the woman get up and shake her head. She tentatively touched the stitches on her head, moaning a bit. She got to her feet and started to make her way out of the curtained prison she was currently in.

"Woman, the doctor said you couldn't go until he saw you," he said, stepping into the room and standing in her way. 

"Vegeta . . . ." she breathed. She looked shocked. "What are you doing here?"

"Woman, I brought you here," he said roughly.

"Why?"

He looked at her annoyed. "Your head was bleeding, woman. What was I suppose to do? Leave you there and let it bleed until you either died or it became infected and then you died?"

The woman looked at him shocked again. She regained her composure a bit and said, "I want to go home."

He raised an eyebrow at her. He looked out into the nursing station and barked at a nurse to go get the doctor. The nurse ran to do what she was told. The doctor appeared moments later.

"Ahh, you're awake." He gently shooed the woman back to the bed and examined her, checking if she was experiencing any pain or lack of vision or reflex. He turned to Vegeta. "Could you excuse us?"

He gave the doctor a glare that could have melted ice, but he left. He waited outside the curtain again, listening in to the conversation.

"Did he do this to you?" the doctor asked her.

Vegeta felt more than heard her say no. That damned doctor didn't believe his story. If he could he'd blow the doctor and the whole hospital up, but he knew the woman would probably harp on him until the end of the world, and then some. And she wouldn't fix the machine either, so he decided against blowing everything up.

The doctor stepped out, followed by the shaky woman. "She's free to go," the doctor said to Vegeta.

Vegeta grunted and picked her up. She placed her arms mechanically around him, her face downcast. He exited the hospital and flew to the house, neither of them saying a word. He could sense that she felt ashamed for not telling him what was going on, and he felt she should be. Why didn't she say anything to him? Given, he acts like he doesn't give a damn about her, but he wouldn't let anyone beat her, not in his house. He felt strangely protective of her. He scrunched his eyes together, wondering where that feeling was coming from.

They reached the house and placed her down on the front porch. He opened the door for her and she went inside, still shaking. He followed her to her room and flicked on the light. The room was a mess. He saw a vase smashed on the floor near the wall, explaining the crash from earlier. Clothes were all over the place, and several other things were broken across the floor. It was disconcerting to see such a mess in her room; she was a very organized person. He cleaned off her bed and motioned for her to get in. She obeyed, laying down and drawing her sheets over her body. He grunted and left, turning the light off.

He made his way to his room, across the hall from hers. He needed to get some sleep. His body still hurt, and now his head hurt with questions of why. He quickly showered and climbed into his bed, sighing slightly now that he'd finally made it. He was almost sleeping when he heard a queit shuffling outside of the door. He kept his eyes closed, knowing it was the woman. She pushed his door open a crack.

"Vegeta?" she called.

He didn't answer her.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the room, closing it behind her. He heard her soft footfalls as she walked to his bed. She gently touched his shoulder, trying to wake him.

"Vegeta."

"Woman," he said, opening his eyes.

She pulled her hand back quickly, her eyes widening. "You're awake?"

"Well, if I was asleep, now I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, half sitting up. The moonlight fell upon her pale face, showing that she was scared and uncertain.

"Um . . . could I sleep with you tonight?" she said, her voice shaking.

He sighed. He should have known; she was probably scared witless in her room, considering all the crap that had recently gone on in there. He moved over and motioned her to get in beside him. She got in, smiling at him.

"Thank you, Vegeta," she said quietly.

He grunted and turned his body away from her, pulling the covers over them. He listened to her breathe for about an hour, knowing that she hadn't fallen asleep yet. He turned to face her, irritated though he didn't know why. Her back was to him, and she held her body tightly together, tense. "Woman, are you going to sleep sometime tonight?"

She remained silent.

"Woman?"

She said nothing.

He gently touched her, moving her so that she faced him. He saw tears falling from her eyes and trailing down her face. Had she been crying for the past hour? He caught her eyes with his, and he could see the fear still in her eyes. He sighed. Even though she was not even a foot away from him she still felt scared. At this rate he'd never get to sleep; her tension was getting to him. He moved over a bit and pulled her toward him, in an embrace. She melted against him, her hands drawn up to her chest. She buried her face into his chest and sighed. He felt her relax, and within the next few minutes she was asleep. "Finally," he thought, and soon he was asleep too.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took several weeks before she was almost back to normal. He tried to be as nice as possible to her, considering ever time he snapped at her she would fly into hysterics and cry herself sick. She slowly got back her strength, both physically and emotionally. She went back to working in her lab, and cooking her Kami-awful food. He kept his comments on her food mostly to himself the first few weeks, but one day he couldn't handle it anymore.

"Woman, your food taste worst than dog food. Can't you make anything better?" he said, seeing how she'd react.

She stopped cutting her apple in mid-stride, her shoulders tensing. Damn, she was going to cry again. He clenched his teeth, waiting for the oncoming flood of tears.

"Then why don't you go eat dog food!" she screamed at him.

Vegeta looked at her surprised. She had turned to look at him, clutching the knife, her breath heavy and her eyes red, but no tears. He smirked and crossed his arms, sitting back against the chair. "Because you don't buy dog food."

She smiled crookedly. "Then I'll go buy some for you."

Later that night he came in from training and saw several cans of dog food on the table. He smirked; she was normal again, well. . . almost. She still slept in his bed. She no longer slept in her room anymore. She slept with her body snuggled closely to his, and she would toss and turn until he held her in his arms. That night she was snuggled closely to his back, but she wasn't sleeping.

"Vegeta?" she said, touching him lightly on the back. She started to trace the scars on his back.

"What?"

"Why do you always have to act like a bastard?"

He snorted and said, "That's just the way I am."

She was silent for a moment. He waited for her response. "Well," she said as if she'd come to a decision, "I'm just going to have to teach you how not to be a bastard anymore." She threw her arms around him. "Goodnight, Veggie-chan." He heard her soft breathing become steady, and he knew she was asleep.

He turned to her, pulling her close to him out of reflex. "You do that," he said roughly, half jokingly. Then he fell asleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now . . . .

Vegeta saw the first rays of the sun begin to peek through the living room window. That wasn't exactly a better time, and he couldn't figure out why he'd thought of it as one. He still wanted to kill John for all the crap he'd put the woman through. He felt his ki rising, and he roughly pushed it down, not wanting to wake the brats yet.

He sighed and got up from the chair he was sitting on the whole night through. He supposed that was the beginning of better times. He walked silently to the kitchen. The woman still wasn't home yet. She'd never been gone this long before. He felt a pang of guilt and worry. Where'd the hell she go? Knowing her, she probably went to Kakkarot's house or some hotel. He was sure she'd be fine. But, he still missed her. Right now she would usually be cooking her awful food and yelling at him at the same time, which would wake up the brats and they'd come grumbling into the kitchen. But now it was quiet, a little too quiet.

He sighed and walked out of the kitchen to the gravity room. He had no real reason to train anymore, but he still did. Maybe he could clear his thoughts after he trained a bit. Maybe she'd be home too.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Vegeta stepped out of the gravity machine and made his way silently to the kitchen. The moon was high in the sky, the stars blinking their colors of yellow, red, green, and blue. The woman hadn't come back yet; he could tell because the kitchen light was off and he couldn't feel her weak ki. Trunks was home, but Bra wasn't; she was probably off on another date with Kakkarot's brat. It was bad enough that Trunks was in love with Kakkarot's brat's daughter, but now Bra was all over Kakkarot's other brat. He shuttered to think he might be tied to Kakkarot in two ways.

He entered the kitchen and flicked on the light. He could hear the television from the living room where Trunks probably was sprawled out on the couch sleeping. He went to the fridge and rummaged through it for something edible. There wasn't much. He'd have to remember to tell the brats to go shopping for some food. After he had eaten everything that could be eaten in the fridge, he went into the living room. He was right; the TV was watching Trunks instead of the other way around. He hit Trunks on the leg. Trunks jumped up, looking like he was ready hurt someone. When he realized it was his father he sat down on the couch.

Vegeta crossed his arms and looked at his son. "I think the TV was getting bored with the program it was watching."

Trunks looked at him sheepishly. "Sorry, Father." He got up from the couch. "I'll go sleep in my room."

Vegeta grunted and watched his son walk to his room. He got the remote and shut off the TV. He hated the thing. He couldn't understand what was damned intriguing about it. The woman was constantly watching it when she wasn't working in the lab or yelling at him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before . . . .

The woman was flipping through the channels at a speed Vegeta didn't even know she had. "Woman, how the hell do you know what's going on if you don't even stick around long enough to hear what they're saying?"

She looked back at him, her blue eyes careless. "If it looks interesting, I stop. If not then . . . too bad," she said shrugging. She returned to looking at the TV, flipping through the channels again.

"Stupid woman," he muttered under his breath.

He was surprised when she suddenly turned the TV off. She turned her eyes on him and said, "Vegeta, the first lesson of not being a bastard is to stop calling people names."

He gave her a look that said "what planet are you from?"

She gave him a "stupid, don't you remember" look and said, "I told you last night that I was going to teach you how not to be a bastard."

Vegeta smirked and crossed his arms. "I'd like to see you try, woman."

She got up from the couch and walked over to him. "Vegeta, I have a name, you know. It's Bulma. Maybe you'd get a little more respect from me if you started to use it." She smiled at him sweetly and went to the kitchen.

Vegeta's eyebrows came together in confusion. What was her game? He followed her into the kitchen. "I'm hungry, woman," he said to her.

She moved around the kitchen, ignoring him. She heated herself a can of soup, sat at the table, and began to eat. He continued to stare at her. "Is there something you want, Vegeta?" she said, her voice indicating that she knew exactly what he wanted.

"I'm hungry. Go make me something," he said.

She smirked and sat back in her chair. "Ask me nicely and maybe I will."

"Woman, I don't ask," he said angry.

"Yeah, I know, which means I won't cook. You can go cook for yourself," she said, getting up and placing her bowl in the sink.

"Woman!"

"I have a name, Vegetable Head," she said casually, walking to the living room.

He sat down and started to seethe in his chair. How dare she speak to him in that way? He heard the TV go on in the next room and she started flipping through the channels again. He got up from the chair and went to the living room. "Woman-"

"I have a name," she said, faking a yawn. He knew she was very much awake; she was waiting for him to give into her.

Well, he wasn't. He walked back into the kitchen and went straight to the fridge. He grabbed what he deemed edible and went back to the table. He'd prove to her that he didn't need her to make his food. He went to a lower cupboard and took out a pan that he'd seen her use before. He didn't quite know how to use these human cooking gadgets, but he'd seen the woman do it enough times that he figured he could get it right. He cut through tomatoes and potatoes and several other things that didn't quite match if you ate them all at one time, but he was hungry and he really didn't care. He turned the stove on and put the pan on it. He went to the fridge and got some butter; the woman always put that on before she put the food in the pan. He waited for the pan to heat and threw the butter on, watching it sizzle. He threw in what he had just cut and watched it cook. He grabbed a flat spoon—he vaguely remembered that the woman had called it a spatula or something like that—and started to turn the food over, making sure it didn't burn.

After he deemed it was cooked enough, he took the pan off the burner. He grabbed a plate and put the freshly cooked food on the plate. He went back to the fridge and took out a fish that Kakkarot had dropped off earlier; that idiot was always bringing fish. He cleaned it quickly, scaling the skin off smoothly, and then cut the fish into small pieces, sashimi size. He'd seen the woman once try to do that, but she'd given up after a while. He told her that proved that she was an incompetent baka human. She'd thrown a pot at his head.

He sat down at the table, finally able to eat. Now he remembered why he wanted the woman to cook; it took too much of his time to cook. He growled and started to eat. He noticed the woman silently peek into the kitchen. He smirked to himself, enjoying the surprised look on her face. She came inside and sat down across from him.

"Vegeta?" she breathed.

He silently looked at her from the corner of his eye and continued eating.

"You didn't tell me you knew how to cook," she said quietly.

He ignored her.

She started to laugh.

He glared at her. "What?"

She looked at him, trying to keep her composure. "Tomatoes, potatoes, apples, and oranges. Totemo oishii," she said, unable to control her laughter.

He looked down at his plate. Damn. He must look like a fool. He took a breath, trying to stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks, and continued to eat, ignoring her. She stared at him companionably.

"So, when are you going to cook for me, Veggie-chan?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He glared at her and said nothing.

"Oh," she said pouting. "You don't want to cook for me, little ol' me? Who cooked for you for all this time?" She sat back in her chair and smiled at him.

He finished his food and put his plate in the sink. He felt her gaze on him all the while, silently laughing at him. Damn her. Why did he always feel like a fool around her? He stalked off to his room, wanting to get away from her penetrating eyes. Jumping into his bed, he shut his eyes trying to sleep. He heard the door open as the woman silently entered the room. She closed the door and crawled into the bed next to him. She snuggled closely to his back again. He could feel her smiling, silently still laughing.

"How was your dinner, Veggie-chan?" she asked him.

He grunted. "Better than yours, woman."

"I don't know, Veggie-chan, I happen to like soup. But, tomatoes-"

"Shut up, woman."

"I have a name, Vegetable Head."

"So do I."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Veg-Head. I thought since you weren't using my name I didn't have to use yours," she said sarcastically.

He was getting irritated with this conversation. "Woman, go to sleep."

"Why? Don't you like arguing with me, Veggie-chan?" she said, mock pouting.

"Woman-"

"Veggie-chan."

"Bulma! Go to sleep!" he roared at her.

She threw her arms around him. "Sure, Vegeta."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now . . . .

Vegeta shut the light off in the living room and made his way to his room, the room he still shared with the woman. She wasn't there, though. He could still smell her in the air, and as he lay in bed, he could almost feel her snuggle against his back as she always did before she slept. She'd always been there at night, even after they had fought, but now she wasn't. It almost made him regret her being gone.

"Baka woman," he said, pushing the regret aside. He fell into a fitful sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The following evening . . . .

"Bye, Daddy," Bra said as she grabbed her keys and walked to the front door. "I'm going out with Goten tonight."

Vegeta glanced at his daughter from the paper and grunted. He heard her exit the door, uncapsule her car, and speed away. She drove just like her mother: too fast for her own good. He couldn't see why she drove; she could easily fly. And that idiot Goten could fly too. It would make life easier. But teenagers today, he couldn't understand them. When he was their age he never drove; then again, when he was their age he didn't even know what a car was. A car was definitely a human thing.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before . . . .

"Woman, I don't want to go with you to this damned convention," he said to the woman as she tried to drag him out the door.

She stopped pulling on his arm and stared at him huffily, a blue lock of hair covering her right eye. She hastily pushed it behind her ear and said, "Vegeta, I want you there."

"What? Why?" he said crossing his arms.

"Because as the hostess I can't go by myself and no one else can go."

"Well, neither can I. I have to go train, woman," he said throwing up his hands and walking back to his room to change into his training suit.

She grabbed his arm. "No training today. I capsuled the gravity machine and it won't be uncapsuled until after the convention; that is, if you come with me."

Damn. She'd gotten him. He could train without it, but he'd become stronger faster with it. He was trapped. He growled at her, crossed his arms again, and walked out the door. He heard her excitedly whisper to herself as he walked past her.

She drove them to the convention in her air car. It was a Superhero Convention and it was being held at the Capsule Corp. Ballroom. Vegeta watched the scenery pass, vaguely interested. He couldn't believe the woman had dragged him to this thing. He could be doing other things, more important interesting things. What the hell was a superhero? He posed this question to the woman.

"Well," she said carefully keeping her eyes on the road. "A superhero is someone who keeps justice. They save peoples lives. Sometimes they even save the world."

"That means Kakkarot is going to be there then."

Bulma laughed. "No, Goku's not going."

"What?" Vegeta said confused. "Wouldn't he be considered a superhero?"

Bulma scrunched her eyes together, thinking. "Yeah, I suppose he'd be a superhero—considering he saved the world from you—" Vegeta shot her an angry look, "but he doesn't really fit the profile of a superhero. And no one really thinks of him as a superhero either."

"Considering how high his IQ is, I wonder why," he muttered.

"Vegeta!" she said hitting him.

He looked at her annoyed. He was going to be surrounded by a bunch of people who believed they could save the world; he was beginning to feel sick. He was pretty sure he'd have to listen to their how-I-saved-the-world' stories. Oh Kami! Saved the world his ass; where were they he came to take over?

They reached the Capsule Corp. ballroom and the woman capsuled her car. Vegeta looked at the massive building in front of him and the people who were making their way in. They looked . . . freakish. They all wore costumes. "Why the hell are they dressed like that?" he asked her as she grabbed his arm and started pulling him to the building.

"So their secret identities remain a secret. If people knew who they were they would either be mobbed by fans or killed," she explained to him.

"That's stupid. None of your friends wear costumes," he muttered. Some sort of bat-thing looked at him darkly and he scowled back.

"Vegeta, behave yourself," she scolded him. "And I told you already, they're not superheroes."

"Then what the hell are they?"

She was silent for a moment. "I don't know."

Vegeta rolled his eyes and shook his head. They entered the building and took the elevator to the top floor. They shared the elevator with the bat-thing and his friend. Vegeta could tell they were his friends because the girl looked like a bat and the boy followed the bat-thing all over the place. The bat-thing continued to stare at him darkly. Vegeta glared back at him, wanting to start a fight.

Bulma caught his glare. She elbowed him in the ribs. "Behave."

He glowered at her, but averted his eyes from the bat.

The elevator doors finally opened. She dragged him out into the massive high-ceilinged room. The room was, what humans would say, elegantly decorated. There was a large dance floor—"These bakas can dance?"— and a big fountains that spouted colorful water. He felt it was rather tacky and ugly, but he felt that way about all human decorations.

The woman left him to go conduct her hostess duties after reminding him to behave again; he was left to mill around the freakish superheroes' or go stand in a dark corner and watch the freakish superheroes.' The corner looked very inviting. On the way to the corner he got into a fight with a guy named Superman, smashing the Superfreak into a wall. Bulma yelled his ear off and told him to behave himself. It wasn't like he started it; it was that damned reporter with Superfreak, Louis Lane. He grumbled all the way to the corner about how much of a damned harpy the woman was.

"That was an interesting show," a voice said to Vegeta.

He turned and found the bat-thing. He grunted and turned away, annoyed that anyone was talking to him.

"I've been wanting to do that for a long time now," the bat-thing said, leaning against the wall.

Vegeta smirked. "Why didn't you?"

"We're supposed to be on the same side," the bat-thing said.

Vegeta laughed. "Is that the real reason, or is it because you're a weak human?"

The bat glared at him and said nothing.

Vegeta smirked again, crossing his arms. "You're a weak human."

"And what exactly are you?" the bat-thing asked, his voice tinged with anger.

Vegeta stood tall. "I am a Saiyan Prince."

The bat considered his words carefully. "Saiyan?"

Vegeta grunted and turned away annoyed. This conversation was getting boring. The wall seemed more entertaining at this moment.

"So, you're like Superman then, from another planet," the bat-thing stated.

So the man with the big S was an alien. Vegeta smirked. No wonder why the guy just got up and shook himself off, though he made no attempt to confront Vegeta. He just glared at him and moved on, following that weak woman everywhere she went. "What planet is he from?"

"Krypton."

Vegeta started to laugh. "Krypton? I remember that planet. All its inhabitants were considerably weak, though stronger than your species," he said referring to the bat-thing.

"I guess you know it was destroyed."

Vegeta laughed again. "Know? I was there," he said.

The bat-thing looked at him confused.

"I destroyed the planet."

The bat-thing smirked at him, not believing a word that Vegeta just said. He turned and left, probably going to tell his little bat friends what he just heard. Whatever.

"Wow, Veggie-chan, you didn't smash him into a wall," he heard the woman say. She came up beside him and offered him a glass of wine.

He turned it down. "It would have been a waste of my time, woman."

"Really? Looks like you're already wasting your time."

He glared at her. She walked away.

The rest of the night was uneventful. After the Superman smashing, no one except the bat-thing came to bother him. The room was finally deserted. He looked around for the woman, wondering where the hell she went.

"Hey, Vegeta," he heard her say from behind him.

He turned and found her swaying to and fro. Damned woman was drunk. She held a glass of wine in her hand, and her eyes were glassy. She stepped toward him and he grabbed her before she could fall to the floor. "Woman, you're drunk."

She looked at him confused. "No, I'm not. Just . . . happy," she said smiling.

He picked her up and went to the elevator. Didn't look like she was driving, not that he minded; it was faster to fly. He stepped off the elevator and walked out of the building into the humid night air. He saw the bat-thing and his friends stare at him. He ignored them and shot off into the night. He reached the house in record time. He made his way to his room and placed the woman on the bed. She was sleeping already. He could tell that she'd have a huge hangover the next morning. He stripped off his clothes and pulled on more comfortable clothes to sleep in. He climbed into bed and pulled the covers over them.

"Vegeta?" he heard her softly say.

He remained silent.

"Thank you for not being that much of a bastard." She fell asleep.

He smirked and turned around, pulling her to his chest. "Whatever."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now . . . .

Vegeta heard the door open and close. Bra quietly walked across the living room to the stairs, probably thinking he was asleep. He remained silent, letting her think that. Just as she reached the stairs, he said, "How was your date with that baka?"

He heard her footsteps stop. "Fine," she said, and then ran up the stairs. " Night, Daddy," she called from the top of the stairs.

Vegeta sighed. Where the hell was the woman? Three nights already, definitely a record for her. He silently went to their room and lay down. The room felt so empty. He turned to face her side of the bed and gently touched the empty spot, feeling the cool sheets under his hand. He fell asleep, regretting that he was missing her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . .

Vegeta's nose came close to the metal floor as he did his warm up push ups for the day's training. He couldn't concentrate. That damned woman hadn't come back yet. The brat's were starting to get worried. He and Trunks had gotten into a fight about it this morning. Bra had stared at them disapprovingly—like her mother—but had taken Trunks' side. It looked like he'd pushed her too far.

He stopped and sat on the floor, feeling the weight of 500 G's on his body. He pulled his knees up and placed a hand on his temple. Damn, he'd pushed her too far.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before . . . .

Vegeta growled to himself as he heard the gravity machine power down automatically as the door opened. He spun around. "What, woman?" he demanded.

She looked up at him, her blue eyes determined. "Vegeta, you've been in here all day. It's time to eat."

"Eat? Woman, I'm not hungry. Go away. I have to train," he said dismissing her. He levitated down to the floor and stared doing his push ups.

He heard her footsteps draw close to him. Her feet appeared right in front of his face. "Vegeta, you need to rest. You can train tomorrow."

He ignored her.

"Vegeta," she said, her voice impatient. She began to pull on him, trying to make him get up. Her feeble hands wrapped themselves around his arm, pulling him.

"Damn woman, leave me alone," he muttered.

"Nope. I'm not going to leave you alone until you come inside the house."

He cursed to himself as he got up from the floor. "Fine," he mumbled.

She led him out the door and then capsuled the gravity machine.

"Woman, what the hell did you do that for? It's not like anyone's going to steal it," he said angry.

"It's for your own good. I don't want to find you training in the middle of the night," she said walking to the kitchen.

He marched after her, supremely irritated. What the hell was her problem? He sat down at the table and glared at her back as she made his dinner. She placed it in front of him and he ate it, barely tasting a thing. She just stared at him silently, watching him eat.

"Woman, do you have a problem?" he asked her after he was done.

"No," she replied.

Earth women—he was never going to understand them. Getting up from the table, he went to his room to grab some clean clothes so he could shower. She stayed in the kitchen, her gaze on the table. He took a quick shower, enjoying the feel of the hot water as it streamed down his body. He toweled off and threw on his clothes.

Entering his room, he found the woman there already, covers drawn over her small body. She lay on her left side, her fists drawn up to her chest, not sleeping. He stifled a sigh and climbed in next to her, his back to her front. He was use to her sleeping in his bed, but he felt like there was no where he could be by himself, not even his own room. He felt the weight of the bed shift as she moved over. She placed her chin on his shoulder and drew her right arm in front of him, over his chest. He could feel her gaze on him again.

"Vegeta?" she whispered. "Do you love me?"

His eyes shot open and he almost fell out of the bed. Where the hell did that question come from? He turned his body so he could look at her. She looked at him, her eyes wanting and answer, hoping for a yes. He couldn't bring himself to tell her anything; he didn't know. Love? Saiyan's didn't love; they bonded. There was no word for love in the Saiyan dictionary. He looked at her, confused, not knowing what to say, unable to say anything at all.

She crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. She leaned forward and touched his lips with hers, a fluttering kiss. She pulled away and looked deep into his eyes, searching for the answer. She seemed satisfied with what she saw because she kissed him again, deeper and more passionate. He could feel his body start to respond to her, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her close to deepen the kiss. His eyes closed; his mouth savored her taste. His mind spiraled in confusion, unsure of what was happening, but wanting it to go on. It was an unreal sensation for him.

She began to run her hands up and down his body, gently caressing him. She put her hands under his shirt and pushed up, her hands moving the shirt upwards to his shoulders. He obliged her, tearing his shirt off. She pulled back a little and stared at him.

"Do you like what you see?" he asked her, his voice rough.

She licked her lips and kissed him again.

Damn woman. He could feel her heat coming from her body. She kissed him down his face, along his neck, and down his chest. Her hands went to the hem of his pants and began to pull on them gently. She pulled his pants off and dropped them to the floor. She straddled his waist again, nothing between them but his boxers and her clothes. He was beginning to think that was pretty damned unfair.

He sat up suddenly, pushing his hands under her shirt and pulling it up. She lifted her arms and he pulled the shirt off and discarded it on the floor. He was about to start on her bottom, but she pushed him down and assaulted his lips with hers. She pulled away from him suddenly, totally disengaging their bodies. He stifled a protest as she climbed off the bed. She tucked her thumbs into the hem of her pants and pushed them down, along with her underwear. His eyes danced over her body, taking in every inch of her supple skin. She came to the edge of the bed, leaned down, and grabbed the hem of his boxers. She tugged on them roughly until they lay at her feet on the floor.

She straddled him again, skin to skin. He shuddered as he felt her warm body against him, feeling the blood pumping through her veins. She leaned forward, her hair falling next to his face. "I want you," she said in a low seductive voice.

He flipped her suddenly, hearing her squeak as he she hit the bed. He pressed his body to hers, feelings her melt beneath him. He placed strategic kisses along her neckline. She moaned against him, tangling her hands in his hair. He assaulted her body with kisses and caresses, touching everywhere. He came back to her face and stared into her blue eyes. She looked back at him, her gaze steady and sure. She nodded slightly at him and closed her eyes as he began to push into her. She grabbed the bed sheets next to them and clenched her teeth. He felt her stomach tighten as he pushed into her fully. He continued to stare down at her, burning her face into his memory.

He felt her relax. Her eyes opened and she looked into his eyes again. She kissed him lightly and wrapped her legs around him. He began to move, setting up a nice pace for both of them. She ran her hands down his back and began to prod the spot where his tail used to be. He groaned and his tempo sped up. His hands began to roam over her body, roughly running over her skin. He pulled her arms and hands from their task, placing them over her head. He pushed further, a slight sweat starting to form over his skin. He brought her torso to his, savagely kissing her face and lips. He could feel himself coming to an edge, knowing he was going to fall over, and enjoying it.

He clenched his teeth and moved faster, listening to her shortened breaths. He felt it suddenly, and bit down deeply into her neck. She cried out, crossing the edge too, and clung to him as her body spasmed. He lapped at her blood as their bodies began to calm and cool down.

He heard her breathing become deeper and steadier. Her arms loosened around him, but didn't let go. He pushed her back down onto the bed and withdrew from her. She laid there, her head on the pillow, smiling at him contentedly. Her face glowed. He stared at her, taking account of everything that had just happened. He noticed the mark he'd left on her, claiming her as his own. Well, if he had second thoughts now they just went out the door. There was no way he could take back the mark; it was permanent, telling the world that she belonged to him . . . and he to her. She could—if she wanted—break it off with him, but he could mate with no one but her until she died.

He lay down next to her, letting the ramifications fall across his mind. He'd have to live with this woman for the rest of her life, protecting her from any and all, and if he got any brats out of this, he'd have to protect them too. He would have to remain faithful to her throughout her life, never harming her if she were not as true.

She, in turn, would demand his time and his love'—whatever that was. She would accept everything he was obliged to give her, but she would demand more of him, his affections. Affections? Yeah, right. He couldn't see himself being like her second to last boyfriend, Yamcha. Kissing, touching, holding hands in public—no way. He could possibly do that when they were alone, but no other time. She'd have to accept that.

He felt her move and curl herself around his body. He pulled her into an embrace and listened to her breathing as she fell asleep. He looked down at her face, serene and content—it wouldn't be so bad mated to her.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now . . . .

Vegeta shook himself from the memory of their first night. He'd been taken by surprise. She had always been a beautiful woman in his eyes, but he'd always been a mass murder in his mind. He didn't deserve her, and he didn't let it bother him much; he had to beat Kakkarot. It occurred to him after their first night that if he did beat, or kill, Kakkarot, he couldn't destroy the earth, not with her on it. And then she'd harp on him for the rest of her life if he took her off and then destroyed the earth. It was a lose-lose situation.

She didn't know how much he had to sacrifice for her happiness. He couldn't kill Kakkarot—not that he wanted to anymore, but back then it was very important to him; he couldn't destroy the earth—not that he wanted to do that anymore either. His two reasons for basically living were taken away from him in one moment. But he had gained her love,' and he had gained two kids, so what the hell was his problem? He knew what is was: he had been bitter and angry at her ever since, even though the reasons for his bitterness had long ago passed away. The first few months were exciting, but over the years he had become more distant and oppressive. They still made love'—as she called it—but it was more of a release from their daily tensions and arguments.

Love. That was probably what he was missing. But he didn't even know what love is. If love was feeling this regret in his heart when he turned to find her side of the bed cold, or missing the way her eyes flashed when she was angry at him, or constantly thinking of her when she went away for long periods of time when she was angry at him—now being the only time she didn't come home to sleep the same night she left—then yes, he could say that he was in love with her.

"Show it to her," Bra had said.

How?


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Bulma sat at her hotel room table stirring a cold cup of tea with a wooden hashi. She faced the window, gazing out into a clear night sky, knowing that her Prince stared at the same sky. She missed him; this was their fourth night apart. She'd never been away from him this long, not since John.

Now that she was away from him she could remember all the times he was civil to her, all the quiet moments when they were alone. She knew he loved her, deep down inside—if he didn't, he wouldn't have stayed.

No, that was a lie. He didn't love her. She was fooling herself. He'd told her himself that she was his mate, and Saiyan's were extremely loyal. But that didn't mean he loved her. He almost told her as much—she was to be protected and tolerated as long as she lived. That didn't mean he had to love her. He could love another, but he'd stay loyal to her. He could not cheat on or hurt her, but she could him. She would die eventually and he would find another woman, possibly actually love her.

Bulma felt a pain in her chest as she thought of him possibly loving another woman. She felt like someone stabbed her straight in the heart with a burning poker, and then ripped it out so that she would bleed to death. No, it was worse than that: it was like being eternally separated from the one you loved the most—which was what was happening to her. Vegeta didn't love her, and yet she loved him so much, she didn't even have words for it. It hurt her to think that he would love another after her, that she would be conveniently forgotten when she went on to the Great Snake Way. 

"Damn it!" she said, slamming her hashi down on the table and standing up. She began to pace.

Why did she love him so much? He was such an arrogant bastard who cared for no one but himself, and made a show about caring for her and the children. Well, maybe for her and Trunks; he actually seemed to like Bra. But still—why did he always have to be so cold and heartless? It seemed like he hated her for some reason. What did she do to him?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before . . . .

Bulma sat contentedly on the couch in the living room, placing her right hand on her still flat stomach and smiling at no one in particular. She sighed softly and thought about her Prince Charming, Vegeta. She knew she was in love with him, had known for quite a while. He'd been so tender to her since John; she didn't even know he could be that way. And even now that John was long gone, he was still somewhat tender, though definitely not as much as he was the ensuing months after John. He still loved to pick fights with her and disagree with her on everything and anything, and comment on how stupid she was. Her, stupid? She was the smartest person in the world, not to mention the most beautiful.

Vegeta. Just the thought of him made her sigh. He was so . . . she couldn't even describe it. Infuriating, yes; but thoughtful too, she supposed. He had a softer side—like all arrogant bastards. She loved the challenge of pulling that side out of him. And he had definitely proved to be a challenge, one she didn't even consider taking up until after John. Given, she flirted with him—they lived in the same house, how could she not—but she had never really seriously thought about pursuing him. But that first night when he held her close to him, doing nothing but calming her fears, she knew he was the one she'd been waiting for. Her Prince Charming.

She was jolted out of her revere when she heard the back door slam and the steady footsteps of the one she'd been thinking about. She got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen, smiling hugely at Vegeta. He looked back at her, his face stony and emotionless. She knew he was wanting to get into a fight. She walked over to him and lightly kissed him on the cheek. "I'll have your dinner ready soon," she said.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously as she moved around the kitchen. She could imagine what he was thinking: what the hell is going on with her? Well, he'd find out soon enough, if he didn't know already. She heard him sit down at the table and could feel his gaze on her back.

She started to hum to herself about nothing in particular. She was in a good mood.

"Woman, you're hurting my ears with your awful humming," he said maliciously, most likely itching to get into a fight.

"Too bad for you, Veggie-chan," she said placing a plate in front of him. "I'm in a good mood. Later, when I'm in a bad mood, I'll let you know so you won't have to hear my humming." She fairly floated out of the room after that, leaving a speechless Saiyan behind.

She took her shower and climbed into bed, not really needing sleep but not having anything else to do. She didn't want to sleep. She wanted to sing and dance and jump around the room. But she'd probably scare the hell out of Vegeta if she did; he wasn't one to display happy emotions, and he didn't like to see others do it either. "Weak human," he'd say.

She heard the shower being turned on in the bathroom. Most definitely he was showering. That was him, always clean. She'd never known him not to take a shower after a day of training, or even after a day of beating—which didn't happen often now that Goku was off somewhere training with Gohan and Piccolo. She loved to wrap her arms around him at night, inhaling the clean, fresh smell of soap and feeling the crisp touch of his shirt against her face. Actually, now he hardly ever wore a shirt to sleep, if anything, now that they were mated'—she hated that word; it made her feel like an animal. Given, she was an animal, but-

"Bulma, shut up. You're starting to rant," she scolded herself. She was just so excited.

She heard the door open and softly click shut as Vegeta entered the room. The room was suddenly filled with heat and a strong smell of soap. Vegeta climbed into the bed next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She sighed and turned to face him, encircling his body with her arms.

"Woman, what the hell is wrong with you today?" he murmured in her hair.

Now was the moment, the moment she'd been waiting for all day . . . and she couldn't say a thing! Not a Kami-blasted thing! She'd been dreaming all day how to tell him, but now that the moment was here, no words came out of her mouth. He pulled back a little and stared at her with a quizzical look on his face. She opened her mouth but nothing came out.

He smirked and pulled her close again. "I know what you want to say, woman."

"Oh, really. And what do I want to say?" she asked him, somewhat relieved.

"You're having a baby," he stated simply.

Bulma felt her body tense at the word you're.' He made it sound like he wasn't apart of it. "What do you mean, you're'? Aren't we' having a baby?"

"Woman, I'm not having the baby. You are. This has nothing to do with us," he said.

"What?" she said pulling away. "How can you say that? It's our baby."

"Woman-"

She got up from the bed hurriedly. "Vegeta, this child is yours."

"I know the brat is mine," he said.

"It's not a brat," she argued.

"Yes, he is a brat," he said, his voice rising a little out of irritation.

"Vegeta, how can you say your own child is a brat? Do you have absolutely no love?" she said, her voice starting to rise out of anger.

She saw a flash of anger cross his eyes. "Woman, I don't love anyone. Saiyan's don't love." He sat up on the bed and looked at her, his eyes filled with irritation and anger.

She felt her world crumble right then. Saiyan's don't love? He didn't love her then? She was just some sort of play thing for him, something to keep his bed warm? She flew out of the room. She couldn't handle this, not now, not when she was going to have his baby. What did she get herself into? He didn't love her, or the baby. She could picture herself right now, raising the baby on her own, no father to love them like a father should.

She ran down the stairs and out of the house, grabbing her purse along the way. She uncapsuled her air car and drove off, needing to get away from that bastard she'd mated' with.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now . . . .

Bulma sneered as she relived that night Vegeta told her he didn't love anyone. How could she have been so stupid to think that he actually loved her? Him of all people. But she had gone back to him, and they had made up in their own way. The making up was always good. They even had a second child, Bra. But he never said he loved her and she never asked. She had deluded herself into thinking he could finally love her as time passed, but that was all it was—delusions.

That had been the end of the good times, the end of everything tender. Vegeta played well the part of being caring, but there was always a bit of resistance on his part, which she couldn't understand until now. That night, when he said he didn't love anyone, the fantasy world that she had lived in crumbled into nothing, leaving her broken and lonely and very much aware that he wasn't capable of loving anyone, and leaving her love unreturned. 

And her love was still unreturned. She smirked and took a sip of her cold tea, walking over to the balcony in the process. Her children were grown already, learning how to love others, letting others love them, filling the empty spaces inside their hearts . . . and she was empty still. After all the years she'd spent with their father she was still lonely. Her own children experienced more love in their lives than she had her whole life. It was . . . disgusting. She had to be one of the most loveless people in the world.

And to think that Vegeta put up with her all these years. She owed him something for that at least. He'd never left, not that he could, and he'd never really complained—besides the fights that he would pick with her just because of who he was. Well, she'd do everyone favor tonight.

Bulma looked over the railing to the gray concrete floor down below. Ten flights. From where she stood she could see the entire lay-out of Satan City, the city which Capsule Corp. practically built—not that she got any thanks for that. No, just lawsuits and complaints. She smirked and climbed over the railing, her feet teetering over the edge. No one would know until it was too late. She couldn't live life the way she was now; she couldn't put Vegeta through what he was going through because he was obligated to be with her because of some stupid mark on her neck.

Bulma loosened her grip on the silver railing, leaning forward a little and staring down at what she would soon know rather well. Her love would never be returned, so why put Vegeta through hell for something that meant absolutely nothing to him. This was it.

She let go of the railing and propelled herself off the balcony. She felt no regret. Her babies were grown up and they could handle life on their own; her friends could live without her; Trunks was perfectly capable of running Capsule Corp.; and Vegeta wouldn't give a damn anyway. A single tear slipped out from her eyes. She didn't want to die yet, but she didn't know how to live.

Six words slipped out of her mouth before she hit the unforgiving pavement below: "I will always love you, Vegeta."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Bulma opened her eyes and saw white. "Am I dead?" she said.

"Close, but no, honey, you ain't dead," a voice said from out of nowhere.

Bulma jumped up from her lying position, causing her head to swim. She placed a shaky hand on her head and looked around. Nothing but white . . . and a single woman. She scrunched together her eyes in confusion. She's not dead? Well, this sure wasn't earth.

"You look confused," the woman said.

Bulma walked over to her, studying her look. She was a compact woman, a fighter it looked like. She had short black hair—cut, Bulma supposed, so the hair wouldn't get in her way—and she wore a loose pair of pants with a tight shirt, both light blue, a rather stark contrast from her black eyes. She looked like a clash between light and darkness. The woman motioned for her to sit next to her and Bulma did as she was told.

"Where the hell are we?" Bulma asked.

"We're in a limbo—or a half-way house—between life and death. You're not really alive, but you're not dead. For some reason your body has decided it wanted to live, so it is alive but your soul—I guess that's what you'd call it—is not there," the woman stated simply, a little too simply for Bulma. "There's nothing you can do about it."

"So, I'm stuck here then," Bulma said slowly.

"Basically."

If there was something to lean back on, Bulma would have, but there was nothing but the floor and white. She wasn't dead, but she wasn't alive. She didn't know if she should be happy or sad. Shocked, she was definitely shocked; she was sure she was going to die. But here she was, stuck in limbo, and for Kami-knows how long.

She looked up and noticed that the woman was studying her now. "Oh, I'm sorry. Where are my manners? I'm Bulma Briefs," she said extending her hand toward the woman.

The woman took it gingerly and said, "Shakna."

"It's nice to meet you," Bulma said.

Shakna smirked. "No, it isn't. You weren't planning on being stuck in limbo, and neither was I."

"How long have you been here?"

"I'd say about 52 years."

"What? How could you have been here for 52 years?" Bulma asked her, surprised.

"Apparently my body doesn't want to die yet. I don't even know where my body is anymore," she said quietly.

"Oh," Bulma said, understanding that it was a hard subject for Shakna to talk about, yet wanting to know more. "How did you end up here?"

Shakna snorted. "Without honor."

Bulma looked at her confused.

Shakna sighed. "I was attacked while I slept. I'm assuming someone threw me into a regen tank but I never fully regenerated or something."

Regeneration tank? Bulma looked closely at the woman. She noticed a furry brown belt around her waist. Tail? She looked back at the woman who had turned her gaze away from her. "Are you a Saiyan?"

Shakna's gaze shot back at Bulma. Her eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

Bulma smirked, seeing the Saiyan tendencies come out of the woman. Her tail had unfurled itself from around her waist and was flicking back and forth maliciously. "I know a few Saiyan's."

"How can you know a few Saiyan's? We're all dead."

"Hardly. My husband is a Saiyan."

Shakna seemed to recoil at the mention of a Saiyan marrying a human.

"Believe me: he really had no choice. There were no female Saiyan's he could mate with," Bulma snorted.

Shakna looked at her curiously. "You sound as if you're not happy to be married to him?"

"Should I be? He's incapable of love," Bulma said, angry.

Shakna laughed suddenly. "Love? Saiyan males don't know what love is. They are born to fight and to reproduce. They can mate with any Saiyan female they want, as long as she lets them and is not with child already. Of course, there were always exceptions, but those were few."

"Exceptions? I wish I was an exception," she said more to herself.

Shakna smiled at her languidly. "So, who is your husband?"

Bulma looked at her, knowing she would probably not believe her. "Prince Vegeta."

Shakna was on her in a second, grabbing her by her collar and holding her close so that they were face to face. They had levitated off the ground a few feet. "Take that back! Prince Vegeta would never marry a non-Saiyan woman."

Bulma smirked and crossed her arms. "He had no choice. And believe me, he didn't want to," she said, redirecting her gaze away from Shakna's penetrating gaze, still hurting.

Shakna studied her for a moment more and then dropped her. Bulma landed hard on the floor. She stood up, rubbing her backside a bit.

Shakna levitated back to the floor, her arms crossed and eyes hard. "You should feel privileged that my Prince chose you."

"Privileged? The only reason he stayed with me was because of some stupid mark he gave me on our first night." Bulma spat, pulling on her collar to display her mark.

The woman looked at her in shock, and then suddenly she knelt down. "My Queen," she said, placing her right fist over her heart.

Bulma looked at her confused. Queen? "What are you talking about?"

Shakna looked up at her, confusion now on her face. "Do you not know what that mark means?"

Bulma shook her head.

"You are my Prince's mate for life."

"No, duh," she snapped.

Shakna's face looked annoyed. She seemed to be fighting with herself about whether or not she should be putting up with this type of language.

Bulma sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't talk to you like that. It's just . . . I don't know," Bulma said. She slumped to her knees and placed her face in her trembling hands.

She felt a tentative hand touch her shoulder. "My Prince never told you what that mark means?"

"All he said was that he'd be with me my whole life. He would protect me from everything and anything he could," she said, her voice weak.

"Well, you wanted to be an exception to the Saiyan rule and you most certainly are. To be marked means that he wants to be with you for the rest of his life—though in your case, the rest of yours," Shakna said to her, almost gently.

"No, he marked me in the heat of the moment, not out of anything but pure passion," she said strongly, sure that what she was said was true.

"You don't get it, do you? No Saiyan does anything without having some reason—except for maybe killing someone. My Prince must have thought about marking you for a while, though maybe not at a conscious level. He possibly may not even know why he marked you. But something told him to, and so he did. He can't take the mark away, and he risked being rejected by you, and who knows how many other things he had to sacrifice to keep his word," Shakna said.

Sacrifice? Did Vegeta have to sacrifice anything? His ambitions to kill Goku, he had to sacrifice that, which was the only ambition he had to keep him going when he marked her. By Kami, in one moment he had given up everything that made his life worthwhile for the mark . . . for her. Why couldn't she have seen it before? Why'd she have to be so stupid?

"Oh Kami!" she wailed. "I have made a terrible mistake!"

"What?" Shakna said, confused.

But Bulma couldn't say a word. She was in too much pain to say a thing. Realization hit her hard. Vegeta had given everything up for her and this was how she repaid him? By killing herself; except now, she wasn't even really dead. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have not seen?


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Dream . . . .

"How could you do this to me? How could you do this to me after all that I gave up for you?" he accused, his obsidian eyes full of hate and disgust.

"Vegeta, I-"

He put up his hand, not wanting to hear anything from her. Casting one last glance at her, his eyes filled with pain and betrayal, he turned his back on her and walked away.

"Vegeta!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bulma woke with a start, still in the white room. Her face was unusually dry—probably because she wasn't in her body; if she'd been in her body she would have been sweating profusely. Shakna was looking at her curiously. She smiled weakly and got up from the floor. She didn't know how Shakna could keep her sanity after being here for 52 years. She was most definitely strong. "Well, duh, Bulma, she's Saiyan."

Bulma had lost all concept of time in the white room. She didn't know how long she'd been there. It felt like years already, but she sure it wasn't. She was slowly going crazy being stuck in between with only one person who reminded her so much of Vegeta. Of all the people she had to get stuck in limbo with, she had to be stuck with a Saiyan. Shakna, well, she wasn't as bad as Vegeta; in fact, she was almost the exact opposite of Vegeta. Shakna never argued with her, letting her always be right—which was unnerving. But she had the same dark looks as Vegeta, and Bulma could see through Shakna's eyes that if she had not been mated to Vegeta, life would definitely be different in limbo.

Bulma sighed and sat down again.

"Have you started to hear the voices yet?" Shakna asked her.

"What?" Bulma said, her face showing her total confusion.

"Others that have been stuck here starting hearing voices. Something about people talking to their body," Shakna replied.

"Talking to their body?" Bulma said more to herself than to Shakna. That's when it hit her: she was in a coma. Why didn't she figure that out earlier? "Because you were too busy beating yourself up over deserting Vegeta," she thought grimly. "No, no voices yet," she said to Shakna.

"Wow, they either haven't found you, or no one is able to see your body. What did you do?" Shakna asked, her tail flicking back and forth in curiosity.

"You don't want to know," Bulma said, not wanting to get into it.

Shakna nodded, understanding she wouldn't get much more than that.

Bulma got up from the floor again and started to pace. She felt useless now. It had been bad being alive, but now she wasn't quite dead yet and all she had was a white room and a Saiyan for company. Not to mention she had her guilt for leaving Vegeta after all that he'd done for her. "He never even said a word to me about it. How the hell was I suppose to know? I'm not some sort of mind reader," she thought.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Shakna. "What is he like?"

Bulma looked up at her, startled. "Vegeta?"

Shakna nodded, cringing a little at that lack of title.

"Such loyalty," Bulma thought. She sat down across from Shakna. "Would you like to know before he met me, or after?"

"All."

Bulma sighed. "Vegeta was a ruthless killer. He destroyed countless worlds under Frieza's control."

Bulma saw a small smile appear on Shakna's face. Bulma shook her head: only a Saiyan would smile at that.

"He was killed by Frieza on Namek, but brought back to life by the dragonballs."

"Dragonballs?" Shakna asked.

"They're magical balls that can grant you wishes."

Shakna looked at her skeptically, but said nothing.

"He was sent to earth along with the Nameks—Frieza and Vegeta killed most of them, Frieza more than Vegeta though—and other people. From there he came to live with me because he had no where else to go. He helped us defeat the androids, Cell, and Buu. Buu possessed him—took over his body—and so he self-destructed to save the world. We wished him back with the earth dragonballs. Now he just works out and picks fights with Goku because there's no much to do anymore. We have a son, Trunks, and a daughter, Bra."

Shakna looked at her, her eyes saying that there was a lot more that had happened and that Bulma just wasn't telling her. But she remained silent.

"Did I answer your question?" Bulma asked her.

"Yes," Shakna replied.

Bulma smirked. "Yeah, right. You're not convincing me."

Shakna looked like she was torn between asking more and remaining silent. Saiyan's. She seemed to think it was safe to ask more because she asked, "What is he like, um, as a person?"

Bulma sighed. "What is he like?" she thought.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before . . . .

A loud boom resounded across Satan City. Bulma was jolted out of her concentration as the shockwaves hit her lab, knocking down what wasn't bolted to the floor, mainly the project she was just working on. "Damn it, Vegeta!" she screamed as she looked at the remains of her project on the floor, in pieces. She stomped out of the lab, ready to kill the obnoxious Saiyan.

What she found threw all her thoughts of killing him right out the window: the gravity machine was a mess of twisted metal and wires, and Vegeta was no where to be found. "Vegeta!" she cried and ran to the rubble.

She heard a groan and then saw Vegeta picking his way out from the bottom of the mess. "Oh, Kami, Vegeta!" She ran to him and grabbed his hand, helping him out.

"Woman, go away. I don't need your help," he snarled at her, and then fell forward, almost on top of her.

She yelped as she felt his weight fall on her and then started to slip. She quickly wrapped her arms around him and started to drag him as best as she could away from the wreckage. Damn he was heavy. The last time she had Yamcha help her, but Yamcha wasn't around anymore, especially now that she and he had broken. Every two inches she had to stop and take a break because he was so heavy. "For a small man, Vegeta, you weigh a ton," she muttered.

She dragged him into the living room and laid him across the couch. "No way in hell I'm dragging you up those stairs to our room, you baka," she said. Our room? When did it become our room? Technically, it was his room and she just slept there with him. And sleep was all they did. Not that she wouldn't mind to do more . . . .

"Bulma, get a hold of yourself," she said as she walked to the kitchen to retrieve some bandages.

Vegeta. He was so damned irritating and knew just the right buttons to push her over the edge. But then again, he knew just when to stop before he hurt her, and when he held her at night it made up for everything that he'd said to upset her that day. The gleam in his eyes when he argued with her excited her to no end, and his smirk was so . . . sexy. She would wake up on some nights while Vegeta was sleeping, listening to him breath. Once he had even been purring. Of course, she never mentioned the purring episode to him because he'd look at her like she was some kind of freak and deny it.

She walked back to the living room. Vegeta was still out cold. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. All the hard lines on his face were softened, and his smirk was replaced by a soft . . . smile? No, not quite; it was somewhere between a smile and a frown, a neutral smile. She silently began to wrap his wounds, enjoying the feel of his smooth skin. He whimpered a bit as she wrapped the gash across his chest, but he didn't wake.

After she finished, she stood back a bit and surveyed her work. She frowned. When Vegeta woke he'd just take them off and go back to train in another gravity machine. She'd learned to make several gravity machines and leave them capsuled just in case he blew one up, which he'd done twice already. He was always pushing himself too much.

Vegeta began to stir on the couch. He opened his eyes and looked at her. He didn't say a word, just got up and walked to the kitchen. "Woman, I'm hungry," he said.

That was him, no thank you. She followed him into the kitchen. "You can make your own dinner, Vegeta. I'm going back to the lab to finish the project that I was working on before I was so rudely interrupted," she said, her tone biting.

Vegeta grabbed her wrist and spun her around. His gaze was piercing. She felt tears start to fill her eyes. Why the hell did he have to be so damned inconsiderate? Why'd he always have to be a jerk? The tears started to flow down her cheeks, leaving a slivery trail down her face. She flew from the room, up the stairs and into his room. She flung herself onto the bed and grabbed a pillow to muffle her cries.

Why was she crying? He didn't give a damn about her, so why should she give a damn about him? "Because you love him," her mind told her. She cried harder at the thought because he would never love her in any way, form, or fashion. He was too damned caught up in himself and killing Goku.

She heard the door open and close, and the shuffling of feet to the bed. Vegeta climbed in next to her and lay down. She turned her body away from him and wrapped her arms tightly around the pillow, her cries quieting. They remained silent for what seemed like eternity to her.

"Woman, why are you crying?" he asked her, breaking the silence.

"Because you're such a bastard," she said hotly.

"I told you you wouldn't be able to teach me how not to be a bastard," he said, his tone laughing.

Bulma remembered back to when she'd said that. He'd said he'd like to see her try. Damn. She felt herself smile against her will. She flung her pillow at him, smacking him in the face. He grabbed the pillow and placed it underneath his head then he pulled her body against him, locking her in his embrace. She turned to him, draping her arm across his chest and entangling their legs. She looked up at his face. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't sleeping yet. She sighed and laid her head on his chest.

"Bastard," she said before she fell asleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now . . . .

Shakna cleared her throat.

Bulma looked at her, startled. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. She forgot Shakna was even there. "Um, where was I?" she said, smoothing out her already smoothed closed.

"How is my Prince like in person," Shakna stated.

"Oh, well, Vegeta is a bastard who knows just the right buttons to push to get you angry at him. He loves to pick fights, both physical and verbal. But, he knows how to make you forget everything you just fought about, making you love him even more for it," she said, the last part more for herself.

Shakna looked at her, her eyes softening. "You love him."

"More than anything in this world," Bulma said with a sigh.

Shakna grunted and crossed her arms. She seemed satisfied with the answer now.

Bulma looked back at her and blushed a little. Not even Chichi had asked her how Vegeta was in person, and here was this woman—a Saiyan woman—who had asked her that question like it was the most natural thing in the world to ask.

Vegeta. "I'm so sorry, Vegeta," she whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Damn woman. What the hell was she doing falling off of balconies? No, she didn't fall; she jumped. She . . . jumped.

Vegeta paced back and forth outside of the ICU door, looking at his wife as she lay inside, responding to nothing the doctors were doing. The damned people wouldn't let him in. She looked so battered. Her body was broken in several places and she had lost a great deal of blood, but she had survived and now she was in what the doctors called a coma, a deep sleep that she might never wake from. He ran a hand through his spiky hair and let go a shuddering sigh.

He never thought she try to commit suicide; homicide, possibly, considering she wouldn't have been able to kill him anyway. But suicide? It was all his fault. He had to push her, he had to push her over the Kami-blasted edge, and now she was on the precipice of life and death. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Daddy!"

He looked up and saw Bra running towards him. He opened his arms and embraced her. She had tears running down her cheeks and her eyes were extremely red. He held her tightly, feeling her body shake as the sobs came out of her small frame. She stopped and pushed him away. She pressed her face to the glass and looked at her mother.

"What happened?" she asked in a small voice.

"S-she jum-jumped o-off the ba-balcony," he said, his voice choking. He didn't know how much longer he could hold in the tears that were starting to surface. Kami! He hadn't cried in a long time.

Bra looked at him, her eyes wide. "Why?"

Vegeta looked away, unable to tell his daughter why. It was because of him. It was all his fault. She jumped because of him.

"Oh," Bra said, understanding. She placed a trembling hand on his shoulder. "Daddy, it's-"

Bra was stopped mid-sentence as Trunks came flying down the hall, knocking Vegeta to the floor. "See! Look what you did!" Trunks said, hitting Vegeta in the face.

Vegeta looked up at him, no longer able to hold the tears in. His eyes were pained and glazed over. He felt like he was losing his sanity. He deserved to die. He silently closed his eyes, letting Trunks hit him.

It took him a while to realize that Trunks had stopped and now was slumped over his body, crying profusely. Vegeta placed shaky arms around him and cried with him. This was the closest he'd ever been to his son, and it was only because of her, because of what she had done. It was a bitter revelation.

Vegeta got up, pulling Trunks up at the same time. Trunks got up and sniffled, two trails of tears falling from his eyes. Vegeta dusted himself off and walked back to the window, placing a sweaty palm on the window pane. "Bulma . . . ."

"Father, I'm sorry," Trunks said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Vegeta looked at him, his face neutral. "I deserved it. It's my fault," he said, turning his gaze back to the body that lay within the room, his voice hollow.

"Father, you can't-" Trunks started.

"What? Blame myself? How can't I blame myself? She jumped because of me, because I'm such a bastard to her and everyone else. That is why she jumped. Don't tell me I can't blame myself!" he roared at Trunks.

Trunks backed away.

The doctor came out of the room. His face was grave. "I'm not sure how long she'll be in this state. She's taken a beating. She might be this way for the rest of her life," he said, his voice sympathetic. "You can go in, one at a time. It's good to talk to her. She might respond to your voices, which would be a great deal of help in helping her get out of this." The doctor opened the door for them.

Trunks and Bra stepped back, letting Vegeta go in first. Vegeta stepped into the cool room, closing the door silently behind him. He walked over to her and picked up her hand tenderly. She was covered in wires and bandages. Her blue hair was combed neatly behind her head, and her face was extremely pale. It reminded him of the time after John. He didn't know what to say.

He sat down on a chair next to her bed. "Woman, um, Bulma," he said, knowing she hated it when he called her woman. "The doctor said I should talk to you. I-I don't know what to say. You know how I am about displaying emotions. Why? Why did you jump? Because of me, right? Because I'm such a bastard," he said, sneering the last sentence. "It's all my fault. I wish I were where you are right now."

Vegeta fled from the room unable to stand the constant beeping and her still form. He felt hands grab at him. 

"Vegeta!"

"K-Kakkarot!" Vegeta looked up at him, stunned. Then he pushed him away. "Leave me alone! It's all my fault!" Vegeta ran down the hall and out of the hospital, leaving everyone speechless.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Vegeta!" Bulma screamed.

Shakna looked up at her startled.

Oh, Kami! He thought it was all his fault. She could imagine the guilt that was festering in his already guilt burdened soul. "Oh, Kami! Don't do anything stupid, Vegeta," she whispered to herself, saying a silent prayer.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten **

Vegeta sat in their room, not knowing what the hell he should do. It was all his fault that she did this. Why did he have to be such a bastard? Now she was stuck between life and death. He hoped to Kami that she would pull through, but then what? Was he still going to be a bastard? Probably. People didn't learn how not to be one over night, and he'd been one his whole life. That's what you get when you're a prince who was forced to work under Frieza. Frieza had broken everything but his pride, and though the bastard was dead, he still came to haunt him—now through the woman.

Bulma. Her name is Bulma. Kami, if she got out of this he'd have to remember to call her Bulma.

Suddenly the solution hit him like a ton of bricks: the dragonballs. He could wish her well, or try to. There had to be something those things could do for her. He ran down to her lab and started to rummage through it, looking for the dragon radar. He found it in the top drawer of her desk, along with a new set of plans for a better gravity room. Vegeta's Birthday Present' was scrawled on the top of the plans. Damn woman. She'd taken to celebrating his birthday the year he came to live on earth. He didn't think it was a big deal to celebrate his date of birth, especially since many people probably would have shunned it, but she faithfully celebrated it every year as if it were some sort of holiday. He could still remember the first time.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before . . . .

Vegeta exited the gravity machine, tired from a days training. The smell of dinner wafted through the night air. It actually smelled . . . good. He walked into the kitchen and found the woman had set the table for two. She had ordered out: Italian food. She was no where to be found, though, so he sat down and waited. He would have much rather eaten and gone, but she went through all the damned trouble of setting the table that she probably would have screamed his ear off if he did.

He waited about five minutes before she finally entered the room. She shrieked in surprise.

"Vegeta! How long have you been waiting here?"

"Too damned long, woman. I'm hungry," he growled at her, annoyed.

She sat down across the table from him. "Well, then, let's eat."

She served herself first and then gave him the rest of the food, leaving it in a heaping pile in his plate. He ate his food quickly and then watched her as she took her time. Damn woman ate too slow. She finally finished and gathered up their plates, putting them in the sink. He made a move to leave.

"Vegeta," she said. She placed a hand on his, staying him at the table.

He looked at her curiously. What was she up to?

She picked up something from the floor and placed it on the table in front of him. It was a box wrapped in a shiny blue paper. "It's a gift," she said. "Happy Birthday."

He looked at her, his eyes skeptical. "It's not my birthday."

"I figured that much, but I also figured you'd never tell me when your birthday is, so I thought I'd just pick a day," she said simply.

"Why?" he asked her.

"Because I wanted to be nice," she said, her voice exasperated. "Do I need to have a reason for everything?"

"Yes," he replied and then eyed the present. He picked it up. The paper was a nice color; he liked blue.

"You have to open it," she said.

He shot her a look which silenced her. He tore at the paper and opened the box. He pulled out a . . . shirt. It was a dark blue collared shirt. He frowned. Where the hell was he supposed to wear this? He looked at the woman. Her face had fallen a bit when he frowned.

"You don't like it?" she said in a small voice.

Oh Kami. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. "No, it's fine," he said hurriedly, his voice rough, not wanting to hear her crying.

She smiled then, a big smile. Then she walked over to him and gave him a hug. "You're welcome," she said. "I know you'll never say thank you."

She walked out of the kitchen and up to her own room. He sat there for a moment, trying to grasp what had just happened. No one had ever celebrated his birthday, not even his own father. Yet her she was, celebrating it for him. They could hardly stand each other, but she'd done this for him, just to be . . . nice.

He walked up to his room and opened the closet door. All his training suits were lined up neatly, along with a pair of lemon-yellow pants and a pink Badman shirt. He hung the blue shirt up next to the Badman shirt. Well, at least she'd given him a blue shirt this time.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now . . . .

Vegeta grabbed the dragon radar and clicked it on. Automatically seven dots appeared on the screen. "It's time to go hunting," he said, and then flew out of the lab and into the sky in search of the dragonballs.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Bulma lay on the white floor, listening to her children talk to her. They were talking about useless things now, and she was getting bored. Where did Vegeta go? How come he wasn't talking to her now?

Oh, Kami. He felt like it was all his fault about what happened, which wouldn't be far off the mark. She didn't want to make him feel that way. She thought he'd be happy now that he was free. But he seemed to be more miserable.

Bulma got up from the floor and started to pace again.

"What's wrong?" Shakna asked her.

Bulma stopped for a moment. She'd forgotten that Shakna was even there. "Nothing," she said, her voice not even convincing herself.

Shakna eyed her, knowing full well something was wrong.

Bulma sighed. "He thinks it's his fault," she said miserably, sitting down again.

"Well, he should. He should have been able to protect you," Shakna said with conviction in her voice.

"He can't protect me from myself," Bulma muttered.

Shakna looked like the dawn had hit her for the first time. "You tried to kill yourself?" she said, her voice deathly low.

"Yes," she said, her voice equally low but weaker.

"But you love him."

"I didn't think he loved me," Bulma replied quietly.

Shakna looked like she was shell-shocked. Bulma wondered if she could get hurt in the state she was in. Probably not; she couldn't even sweat. But she didn't want to think of what Shakna would have done if they weren't in-between.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vegeta gathered the dragonballs together and placed them on the grass surrounding the house. If he called on the dragon while inside the house, the house would fall apart. And when the woman was brought back, she'd be supremely pissed. Now he had to think about what he'd wish for. He couldn't just wish her back to health; she'd try it all over again eventually. He had to wish for something that would ultimately prove to her her worth in his life. He had an idea.

He was about to call on the dragon when the phone rang. He ran inside and grabbed it.

"Dad!" he heard the voice say on the other side. "You've got to come here quick. She's slipping."

Vegeta felt his heart stop for a moment. Damn, he had to be fast; if she died before he could make his wish, he wouldn't be able to wish her back. He dropped the phone, leaving Trunks to yell after him.

He stood in front of the dragonballs again. "I call upon the dragon, Shenlong!" he roared.

The dragonballs came to life, and a long serpentine body erupted from them. The dragon stood suspended before him, his green scaly skin glimmering in the moonlight. "You have two wishes. What will be you're first wish?"

"I wish that Bulma would live the rest of my life with me alive and well," Vegeta said strongly.

The dragon seemed to consider this. Vegeta could feel the time slipping from his grasp. "Granted," the dragon said, his eyes glowing.

Vegeta sighed. She'd be okay.

"What will be your second wish?"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bulma felt the world start to spin around her. Shakna looked at her, her eyes growing big. "What's happening?" Bulma screamed.

"You're going back," Shakna said, her voice small.

Bulma felt sorry for her. Shakna would be stuck here, possibly for a long time more. Bulma thrust out her hand towards Shakna. "I will be back for you," she said, before she faded away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bulma woke and blinked her eyes a few times, trying to adjust to the glaring light. She was still in the hospital.

"Mom!" she heard Bra screech in her ear. She felt her daughter's arms wrap around her.

Bulma shakily drew her arms around Bra. "Where's your father?" she asked her, her voice weak.

"He's on his way, I think. We thought you were slipping, but then, miraculously, you were awake," Bra said happily.

Miraculously? Vegeta used the dragonballs! "Where's Goku?" Bulma practically screamed. There could be some time left for the last wish.

Goku appeared in the doorway. "Hey, B! Thought you'd be gone for sure," he said.

Bulma tried to get up from the bed but she was tied down with all the wires. "Goku, I need to get home right now."

"Bulma, I think-"

"Don't think! I need to go right now!" she yelled.

Goku's eyes went big, but he walked over to her side. He touched her with his hand and then they were gone. All Bulma felt was a whirring of the world past her and then she was in her front yard. Vegeta stood there, with the dragon before him. Good, the second wish hadn't been made yet. She tried to walk over to him but realized she was too weak.

"What will be your second wish?" the dragon asked.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vegeta stood dumb-founded before the dragon. Second wish? He'd forgotten about that. What the hell should he wish for?

"Vegeta!" he heard a voice call . . . her voice.

His head shot up in the direction of her voice and their eyes locked. Kakkarot was there, holding her up in his arms, but for a moment it was just them. Time seemed to stop as they looked at each other, feeling like it was the first time.

He was jolted out of his revere when she called him again. "Vegeta!" She turned to Kakkarot. "Take me over there so I don't have to scream."

Kakkarot phased out and then in, right next to Vegeta. Vegeta opened his arms and Bulma fell into them gratefully. Kakkarot stepped back and let the two of them talk.

"I have a wish," she said to him.

He looked at her, his eyes softening. "Whatever you wish can become a reality," he said, his voice tender.

Bulma grunted, a look of determination crossing her eyes. She looked up at the dragon. "I wish that Shakna was here with me."

Vegeta looked at her sharply. Who was Shakna? Did she find someone on the other side?

Before he could ask her the dragon said, "Granted."

Suddenly a body appeared next to them, battered and torn. Bulma pushed him away and crawled over to the body. She drew their head onto her lap. "Shakna?" she said, her voice shaky.

Vegeta looked at the being jealously. Who the hell were they, and why did the woman waste the last wish on them? He vaguely saw the dragonballs gather themselves together and shoot off into the night. He was caught up in watching the woman and this being. She was cradling their head in her lap and whispering to them, tears streaming down her face. Who the hell were they?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shakna?" Bulma said weakly as she looked down at the Saiyan before her.

"My Queen," she said, trying to get up and offer proper tribute. She fell back weakly onto Bulma's lap. "Where am I?"

"You're on earth, with me," she said, her face streaming with tears.

"Earth?"

"Yes, you baka. That's what she just said," Vegeta said from behind her.

Shakna looked up and saw her Prince, actually, now King. She forced herself up onto one knee and placed her right hand over her heart. "My King."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

King? Was this person a Saiyan? He nodded, too stunned to say anything. The being fell back onto the floor.

"Shakna!" the woman screamed. She looked up at him. "Help me, Vegeta! We need to get her to the regeneration tank."

Vegeta shook himself out of his stupor and picked up the woman on the floor, the one Bulma called Shakna. Shakna was unusually light, considering she was a Saiyan—which he knew to be true because of the tail dangling beneath her. He carried her to the lab and was about to place her in the regeneration tank when she spoke.

"My King, let me die," she said.

"My mate will not let you die," he said roughly. He again made an attempt to place her in the regeneration tank.

She powered up suddenly, causing Vegeta to drop her out of surprise. "I will not be placed in another regeneration tank!"

At that moment the woman came in. "Shakna!" she cried.

Shakna turned to look at her, her eyes pleading. "Don't put me back in the regeneration tank. I have been in one for 52 years. Just let me finally die in peace," she said to Bulma.

Vegeta looked at her confused. 52 years? How could she have been in a regen tank for 52 years? Did someone forget about her? He shuddered. He couldn't imagine being stuck in a regen tank for 52 years. He wouldn't want to be placed back in the regen tank if he'd been stuck in there that long either, but he didn't want to hear the woman yelling at him for the rest of his life for letting this woman die. He looked at her, waiting for what she said. He could easily overpower Shakna and place her in the tank if need be.

"Shakna, you can live a new life here. I won't leave you in the tank for any longer than you need to be," she said softly.

Shakna looked at her, her eyes understanding but stubborn. "I can't live life. I don't know how to. I have been waiting to die for 52 years. Now . . . I can," she said, her voice set.

The woman seemed to fight with herself. He couldn't tell what she was thinking now. She sighed finally. "All right."

Shakna smiled and powered down, falling to the ground. The woman ran to her side, cradling her head again. He walked over to them and stared down at Shakna. He knew she'd be gone soon, really soon. And he knew the woman would be torn to see her go. He knelt down beside them and placed his arm around the woman, knowing she'd need support.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shakna looked up at her King and Queen. She smiled. They would last, especially now since her Queen knew what the mark meant. She was fortunate enough to see this moment between them. She was very grateful for what the Queen had done for her. She'd been skeptical, but not anymore; the Queen had kept her word. But she couldn't stay in this world anymore, not after she'd been waiting to die.

"Thank you," she said.

She let out one last shuddering breath and closed her eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Vegeta sighed and placed the woman on the bed. All those noisy bakas were finally gone, and the doctor had said she was fine—in fact, she was in perfect health now, though weak from not using her limbs. Her strength would return gradually through use. The doctor and nurses were quite baffled by her recovery. "Idiots," he muttered under his breath.

He climbed in next to her and pulled her into a close embrace against his chest. She sighed against him and snuggled close to him, placing her head on his chest. He held her tighter, possessively.

He almost lost her for good. She almost died. Almost. He hated that word. It shouldn't have happened at all. He shouldn't have almost lost her for good; he should have never lost her in the first place. She shouldn't have almost died; she should have been home, with him, in his arms.

"Vegeta?" she said, drawing his mind back from his regrets.

He remained silent.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice small and shaky.

"For what?" he said, confused.

"For not understanding. I didn't realize how much you'd given up for me," she said, her hand stroking his chest.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"You gave up your chance to kill Goku and destroy the earth for me," she said quietly. "You gave up everything that meant something to you for me. And then I go trying to kill myself." He heard the disgust in her voice on the last sentence.

She didn't think it was only her fault, did she? Kami, he had to be at fault too; he'd treated her like dirt during all their time together. He could recall every name he'd called her, and every time he'd made her cry . . . one too many times. "It wasn't all your fault," he muttered quietly.

He felt her gaze suddenly on him. He looked at her as a sly smile covered her lips. "Are you saying that it's your fault too, Vegeta?"

He turned his eyes away from her and grunted. It took no genius to know that he had some fault too. It hurt like hell to admit it though, even though she had come back from the dead basically. He still had his pride.

"Did you just apologize in you own little twisted way, Veggie-chan?" she said, her voice giddy, yet appalled.

He remained silent.

She threw her arms around him and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I forgive you, Veggie-chan," she said happily.

"Woman, I told you not to call me that," he said irritated.

"I told you not to call me Woman,' Veggie-chan, and yet you still do," she said, taking the bait.

"I am a Prince. I can call you whatever I want."

Bulma smirked. "Veggie-chan, did it ever occur to you that you're no longer a Prince anymore?"

"Woman, I know what I am," he snapped at her. What the hell were they arguing about? He couldn't understand why she wanted to argue, and where was this damned argument was going? Hell, if he'd just come back from the dead, he wouldn't want to be arguing. No, wait: when he came back from the dead the first thing he did was argue.

"Well," she said, interrupting his thoughts. She propped her chin on her elbows on his chest and looked down into his ebony eyes. "Technically, your planet is dead, so if you are a Prince, you're only a Prince of, say, seven people—Saiyan's plus their family."

He gave her an irritated look but continued listening, a bit intrigued with what she was saying.

"Also," she said, leaning a bit closer to his face, "You're father is dead, making you, logically, King of the Saiyan's." She sat up and pulled her hair up with her hands and fanned her neck. "That makes Trunks a Prince, Bra a Princess, and I am a Queen; so as Queen I will call you whatever I want," she said in a queen-like fashion.

He looked at her a long moment and then burst out laughing. She gave him an incredulous look and frowned. He pulled her frail body down to his and embraced her again. "Too true, too true," he chuckled. Why hadn't he thought of that? Well, it didn't matter. She snuggled against him again and sighed contentedly. He kissed her lightly on her head.

"I love you, Vegeta," she sighed, a smile brightening her already shining face.

Vegeta stopped breathing for a moment, unsure of what he should say or do. She'd told him many times that she loved him, but this time it seemed different. She said it as if she were willing to accept the fact that he might never say those three words to her, and she was willing to have it that way, to take him as he is: with his past, his flaws . . . everything. He was filled with a sudden peace, something that had been eluding him all his life. He felt totally accepted by her, and it gave him a thrilling, yet eerie, feeling. He squeezed her lightly and drew his lips to her ear.

"I love you too, my Queen."


End file.
